


Bite Me

by Medeafic



Series: Captain Spanky Series [10]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: A sick animal (who gets better), Barebacking, Discussion of phobias - frogs and eyes, M/M, Mild D/s, mild mentions of cutting and blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-07
Updated: 2011-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-15 11:57:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medeafic/pseuds/Medeafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris gets romantic, Zach gets affectionate.  Chris finds he prefers non-affection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bite Me

Chris is starting to get _romantic_ , and it’s both embarrassing to him personally and not working out very well. 

He has an urge to buy a houseplant for Zach’s place to make it look nice, but Harold eats it and starts ralphing up green everywhere.  Zach has to take him to the vet while Chris tries unsuccessfully to clean chlorophyll cat-sick out of the carpet.  Harold is fine, but Chris sits up with him all night, just in case.  Zach tells him it wasn’t his fault, but Chris feels guilty for days.  He pays for carpet cleaners, even though Zach tells him to forget about it.

He buys Noah a new bandana just to see Zach smile, but has to borrow it back later in the week to cover a bruised wrist, and then he loses it.  But at least that incident doesn’t end in a vet trip. 

And he’s started watching cooking shows to get ideas.  For what, he’s not sure, but still he watches, and then feels like an idiot when he can’t make his own fucking pasta.  Zach, of course, can and does, and Chris feels un-needed and faintly annoyed.

He demands a list of all the things he’s allegedly quoted while in subspace, and double checking them online makes him even more appalled at his sudden sappy streak.  Most of the works he hasn’t even thought about consciously for years.

And as for Seneca and the fact that Zach has irritatingly taken to calling himself “the Icy Bear” – in third fucking person – Chris is mortified.  Mostly because it’s true; he finds Zach’s presence a constant and comforting navigational marker.  When he feels worried or lost or insecure, he thinks, _At least I have Zach_.  But that instant warm, safe feeling he gets from it isn’t something he’s sure wants Zach to know about.  Not yet.

It’s also a potential issue because Zach talks a lot about New York and the things he wants to do there.  Like plays, and shooting movies.  Things that will take him away from LA for a long time.  He never seems to notice how Chris falls silent when he talks about New York, but Chris is glad, because he doesn’t want Zach to notice.  Not yet.

“Can you get the Icy Bear some coffee on the way back?” Zach asks him one time on the phone.  Chris is driving back from a pointless publicity meeting, and he’s not really in the mood.

“You’re less cute than you think,” he snaps.

“Awww, did someone have a bad morning?”

“You know that Ursa Major _vacillates_ , right?” Chris retorts.  He’s looked it up on Wikipedia.

“I prefer ‘oscillates.’  It’s a less emotionally-charged term.  But sure, I know that,” Zach says, and he sounds amused. 

Chris can’t think of anything else to say, except, “I’ll get you some coffee.”

“And one of those cookie things?”

“What?  You’re breaking up, I can’t –” Chris makes some _kooosh tik kshhhhhh_ noises before hanging up.  But of course he gets one of those cookie things for Zach.  In fact, he gets three of them.

Things are getting kind of intense.

  
***

  
“So I’ve written something for you,” Chris says nervously.  He tosses Zach a closed, but not sealed envelope stuffed with paper.

Zach opens it curiously, and then gives him a look.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not.”

“I can see it in your face.  You _want_ to laugh.”  Chris glares.

Zach unfolds the papers properly and smoothes them out.  “List of fears, huh?”  He peruses.  “This was very thoughtful of you, Christopher.  Thank you.”  Zach flips through the back sheets, and Chris sees his mouth quivering.  “You – you have a list of horror movies here too.”

“Yeah.  The ones I find most scary.  I’m trying to help,” Chris clarifies.

“Well, thank you.  I appreciate it.”

“No you don’t,” Chris says, scowling.  Zach smiles at his pouting and pulls him in for a quick kiss.

“Really, I do.  Although I’m not sure why you think your fear of – frogs?  Is something that I should know about.”

“You know why,” Chris snaps.  “For the thing.  When we do it.”

“You think I’m going to cover you in _frogs_ and get off on that?” Zach asks, but his tone is mild.  “Why are you scared of them, anyway?”

“They ook me out,” Chris explains.  “My sister used to hide them in my sleeping bag when we went camping.  She told me they were trying to eat me.  I was young.  _Very_ young.”  That last bit is kind of a lie, but Chris has his pride.

“You’ve also written ‘eye injuries’ here,” Zach observes.  “You think I’m going to stick a needle–”

“ _No, no, no,_ don’t even _say_ something like that!” Chris shouts, bolting off the couch.  “Seriously, man, that’s not cool.”

“Okay,” Zach says, trying not to smile.  “Hard limit.  Got it.”

“Look, I just don’t see how you’re really going to _scare_ me.  I know you’d never _really_ hurt me.  I’m not _afraid_ of you.”  Chris is flapping his hands around.  He feels ridiculous, and knows he probably looks it, but he wants things to work out for Zach, and he’s not sure Zach is really committed to the whole thing.

Zach shrugs.  “Don’t worry so much, Pine.  Your brain will do the work.  It’ll scare you for me.”

“What is that even supposed to _mean_?  You’re going to tell me urban legends and make creaking noises so I think there’s someone else in the room?” 

“What?  Jesus, where do you _get_ this stuff?  No.”  Zach runs a hand through his hair and allows himself a proper laugh.  “No.  I mean, your actual brain, your limbic system."

“Oh.”  Chris thinks.  “I don’t get it.”

Zach stands up next to him and rubs his arm, placating.  “You’re wired to feel fear as a survival instinct.  That’s what I’m talking about.”

Chris looks dubious.  “Well, just so you know, I don’t like toy frogs either.  My sister started using them instead, after she got in trouble for the real ones.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Zach says, ducking his head.  Chris is sure he’s laughing again, but by the time he looks up again he’s managed to wipe away traces of his amusement.

“And when are we going to do it, anyway?  You’re starting to worry me.”

“Soon enough.  There’s no rush.”

“I get nervous every time I come home, just in case you’re waiting in here to jump me.”

“I wouldn’t do that, not with something like this.”  Zach looks alarmed, like even the thought of it is way over a line.  “Besides, in one week you went from ‘I don’t think so’ to buying me a knife as a homecoming gift.  Give a guy time to process stuff, you know?”  He smiles, but it’s a little distant.

Chris almost says more, but backs off.  He’s surprised to realize that he hasn’t thought about it from Zach’s point of view for a long time, not like that.  Chris knows he _likes_ these things, but doesn’t really think much about how Zach deals with them in his own mind.  How he processes them.

“What do you want to do for lunch?” Zach is asking.  “I feel like noodles.  Or one of those cookie things.”

“It must be lonely,” Chris blurts out before he can stop himself.  Zach looks surprised, but he gets it.

“Not so much.  Not anymore.”  He looks at Chris.  “Come on.  Cookie time.”

  
***

  
“You’re early,” Zach says, opening the door a few days later.  He has a half-smile and something is clearly going on.

“What’s going on?” Chris asks immediately.

“Well – don’t be mad at me, but there’s a guy in the bedroom,” Zach says, grinning.  Chris thinks he’s joking, but it’s true.  A hot guy in jeans and a tight t-shirt, and a tool belt.  He’s a dirty blond with light eyes and is totally Zach’s type.

Chris looks back and forth between the guy and Zach, but the guy seems unfazed.  “Simple fix,” he says.  “I can do it right now if you like.  I got some stuff in the truck.”

“That would be great, thank you,” Zach replies.  The hot guy pushes past Chris with a nod and leaves, presumably to get stuff from his truck.

“What’s going on?” Chris asks again.

“It was going to be a surprise,” Zach shrugs.  “I’m getting the hole fixed.”

“ _The_ hole?  That I made?  That night?  When I tried to hit you?”

“Yes.  Yes.  Yes.  And…yes.”

Chris stares at him.  “Why?”

“You’ve never liked me keeping it, and now you’re asking me why I’m fixing it?”

“Why _now_?”

“Because I don’t need it anymore,” Zach says.  “I don’t need it hanging around as a reminder, and neither do you.”

Chris realizes his mouth is hanging open.  “When did you decide this?” he asks, as an excuse to shut it.

“When I figured out what I’m going to do with you,” Zach says, giving him a sexy-sharp grin and a pinch in the side.

“Ouch,” Chris growls, shoving his hand away.  “And you just _had_ to get the hottest plasterer in the state to do it, did you?”

“No,” Zach says.  “That was just a happy surprise.  But look at it this way – if you’d punched him, it would have been a big sign from the universe to keep the hole.”

Chris admits to himself that Zach has a point there.  But he’s not going to admit it to Zach.  Not yet.

“Also,” Zach says, and gets a strange look on his face.  “I wanted to talk to you about hitting.  It was going to be my segue.”

“I haven’t been hitting anyone,” Chris says immediately.

“I know.  Just – wait till this is done.”

Chris sits on the couch with Harold, who has also forgiven him for the houseplant incident, but Noah is too excitable at the noise and interesting new smells, and has to be locked away.  Harold switches his tail and narrows his eyes at the hot plasterer, and Chris resolves to feed him tenderloin steak next time Zach’s away.

The only good thing about the hot plasterer is that he finishes quickly and clears out.  Chris notices that Zach tips him liberally, but steadfastly ignores it.  Then when Zach gives him a smirk, he realizes that he did it on purpose.

“You like pushing my buttons?” he asks, backing Zach into the wall next to the freshly plastered hole and kissing him possessively.

“It’s fun,” Zach says when they break, pulling him snugly against his crotch so that Chris can feel him get hard.  “Especially since you trust me more these days.  Mm.  Take your clothes off.”

“I thought you wanted to talk.”

“It can wait.”

Zach fucks him up against the wall, right next to the still-sticky plaster.  It’s uncomfortable and awkward and they have to remember to keep their hands away from the drying plaster, and it’s very, very good.  Chris comes first, too soon; he had been trying to hang on, but Zach doesn't let him.  He doesn’t bite, but he kisses where he usually bites.  Chris pants at him to _bite, just bite, please_ , but he won’t.  Chris tries to remember the last time there were only kisses and only fucking and it was a long time ago. 

Zach swipes his fingers through the come all over the wall and sucks it off thoughtfully while he leisurely waits to get soft enough so that he just slips out of Chris’s ass.  He likes the way it frustrates Chris.  “It’s good, isn’t it?” he asks.  “Not having the reminder.”

“Yes.”  It’s good.  It’s strange.  The hole has been there for so long.

“I’ll have to paint over it,” Zach says.  “When it dries.”

“Let me,” Chris asks.  It’s the least he can do.

“We can do it together,” Zach says magnanimously.

“Are we going to talk now?”

“Sure.”  But Zach makes him wait a little longer, spread-eagled on the wall.  He kisses him again over the old bite-bruises before letting him go.

But they don’t talk, because they get sidetracked by showers, and cleaning dried come off the wall, and then food and missed phone calls, and Joe comes over unexpectedly, and they start playing _Rock Band_ and by the time he leaves it’s late and Chris wants Zach again and Zach wants Chris.

Next to the plastered-over hole.  Again.  This time it’s all about hand jobs, and Chris has his back to the wall, and the plaster’s dry enough that they don’t need to be careful of it.  They do each other slowly, teasing, and Zach lets him last as long as he wants this time.  He covers Chris’s eyes gently with his other hand before he comes, because he doesn’t let Chris watch his face unless he’s inside his mouth or ass, even though Chris protests every time that he’s seen it once, so what’s the big mystery.  But there is a mystery there, because actions make it so.  And it was so long ago that Zach let him watch that Chris can barely remember, even though he held on to that memory for a long time.

And there’s no biting again, which is weird, just kissing.

“Don’t you want to bite me anymore?” Chris asks sleepily, once they’re in bed.  He feels Zach smile against his shoulder.  Zach is snuggled up against him and their arms and legs are tangled.

“I love to bite you, Christopher.”

“Why do you love it?”

“Probably some Freudian thing.”

“You don’t believe in Freud.”

Zach snorts.  “He’s not God, Pine.  Or Tinkerbell.  Belief has nothing to do with it.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.”  And that’s all that Zach says about the matter.  Chris forgets that he never answered his question about why there are no more bites until the next day, when he’s at a cast reading for a new movie, and then forgets again by the time he gets home.

  
***

  
Chris never thought he would feel strange about _not_ being covered in bruises and bites and marks, but he does.  Zach is being _affectionate_ during sex where he’s usually caused pain, like – like what Chris wants to call ‘a normal person,’ but that seems offensive – and it’s strange and discomforting.  He still holds Chris down in bed, or orders him to do things, but that’s all.  No bites, no pain, no props.  No marks.  No physical reminders.

It’s disconcerting.

When Chris complains, Zach just smiles his smile and makes non-committal responses.

“And we never talked,” Chris says.  “That thing.  What did you want to talk about?”

That does it.  Zach looks serious.  “Yeah, we do need to discuss that.”

“Fricking _finally_ ,” Chris snarks.

They talk in bed.  Zach’s choice.  They get sidetracked again by fucking, but Chris is so weirded out by the stuff Zach _isn’t_ doing that he doesn’t forget about the talking this time.

“So?” he says, poking Zach in the arm afterwards.

“Mph.  Okay, okay.”  Zach rolls on to his side and looks at him.  “I’ve figured it out,” he says.  “What I want to do, about the thing we talked about.”

“You’re lucky I have a vague understanding of your brain workings, Quinto,” is all Chris says.

“I’ve figured out how I want to cut you and terrify you.  Better?”

“Much,” Chris grins.

“First of all, I’m going to say things to you.  But I want you to know, I don’t really mean them.  Do you think you can handle that?”

“Sticks and stones, Zachary.”

“You can always safe word if you don’t like it.  Also, I’m going to be pretty physical with you.”

Chris looks at him, smirking.  “Because that’s never happened before.”

“You’re probably going to get angry.  And even if you don’t, you’re probably going to want to fight back because of the fear, when it comes on.”

Chris doesn’t say anything to that, although he’s thinking, _Yeah.  Right.  I’m gonna be soooo scared_.

“I want you to know that’s okay.  If you try to hit me during it, that’s okay.”

“Oh.”  Chris takes it in.  “Wait, _what_?  What do you mean, hit you?”

“I mean, you’re probably going to try to punch me.  Or at least the wall, again.”  Zach isn’t kidding, although his eyes are sparkling.  "I'd kind of prefer if you could hit me, though, because that guy was expensive, what with the big tip and all."

“But,” Chris says, feeling stupid, “I’m not allowed.”  He stares at Zach, trying to twist his perceptions like a kaleidoscope that might one day make a proper picture.  All he can think of saying are things like _But you said_ and _But that’s violence_.

“Normally, no.  Hitting people is not a good thing to do.  But I’m granting you a special dispensation for this.”

“You are so _unbearably_ Catholic, Zachary,” Chris says, but he’s only half listening to his own words.  Hitting Zach is not something he even wants to think about again, and this conversation is making him feel uneasy.

“I think we can all agree that the Pope has reserved a very special part of Hell for me,” Zach says.  “But if you want to have a theological conversation, maybe we can wait till we’ve thrashed this out.”  He grins at his own bad pun.

“I don’t want to hit you,” Chris says, frowning.  “Ever.”

“I know.  I’m just saying.  During this thing, don’t feel bad if you do.”

“I’m not going to.”

“I’m not _asking_ you to.  I’m just saying it’s okay if it happens.”

“I really don’t think it’s a consideration,” Chris says, sighing.

Zach has the temerity to laugh.  “So I’m assuming you’ve never been mugged or physically threatened before?”

“Nope.  I’ve been lucky.  And I’ve never started a fight I couldn’t finish.”

“That’s…not really something to brag about.”  But Zach leans over and kisses Chris, and that’s the end of the conversation, although Chris remembers it long afterwards, after they do the thing.  Because Zach was making sure, he realizes much later.  Making sure nothing _unexpected_ was going to come up.  And Chris was too naïve to get it at the time.

  
***

  
The next night in bed, Zach has butterfly band-aids on his chest.  Three of them, covering three cuts, each deeper than the last.

“What the fuck is _this_?” Chris demands.  He’s actually jealous.  It’s embarrassing.

“What?” Zach asks, too intent on rubbing his cock against Chris’s hip.  “Oh.  That.  Nothing.  Practice.”

Chris looks incredulous.

“You think I’m going to cut you without knowing what I’m doing?” Zach says, breathing heavily as the friction grows.  “That would be dangerous.”

“Why can’t you practice on _me_?”

“Move your leg so I can – yeah,” Zach sighs.  “Like that.  That’s good.  And because I need to know how much is too much.  Now be quiet.”  He kisses Chris to make sure, starts rutting against him, holding their dicks together in a tight hand.  When he comes he opens his mouth wide around where he normally bites, all wet and hot, and Chris starts shooting too and braces for the pain, but Zach makes a noise he’s never heard him make before, and pulls away, gasping.

“Just _bite_ me,” Chris says when they’ve recovered.  “Why won’t you _bite_ me?”

“I bet you were one of those kids who demanded to eat their candy in the store before it was bought and paid for,” Zach says sleepily.

“I was not,” Chris snaps.  Although he does remember one time – but that’s not the point.  “I like it when you bite me and you haven't done it in a long time.”

“Just wait, Christopher.  Jesus.”  Zach laughs and falls asleep quickly.  Chris glares mutinously at the ceiling for a long time.

  
***

  
“But you’ve cut people before,” Chris says the next morning.  “Right?”

Zach blearily looks at the clock.  “Have you been having a conversation with me all night while I’ve been asleep?” he asks into the pillow.

“Just answer the question.”

“Yes.”

“So why do you need –”

“ _Oh_ my God,” Zach snaps.  “Because every blade is different.  And I have to make sure that the cuts aren’t deep enough to scar.  And I have to make sure I don’t cut so deep that you lose too much blood and go into shock.  And I have to check how long they’ll take to heal up.  Because I’m not going to do something if I’m not aware of the risks involved.  Because I fucking _care_ about you and I don’t want to cause you permanent damage!”

“I was just asking,” Chris says, hurt.

Zach makes a big noise of frustration and pulls the pillow over his head.  He pulls it down again a few seconds later and says, “I’m sorry.  It just feels like you’re trying to get into my head.  But ask all the questions you want.  You’re the one who’s going to get cut, after all.”

Chris shifts over and pulls Zach’s hand into his own.

“I’m just curious,” he says.  “About everything.  I trust you.  And I’m glad you take precautions.”

Zach squeezes his hand.  “More sleep?” he asks hopefully.

“Why aren’t you hurting me now when we have sex?” Chris asks.  He hears Zach stifle a sigh.

“Two reasons,” he says.  “One, I want a clean canvas to work on when I cut you.  No marks or bruises underneath.  And two, so it’ll be better on the day, more intense.”

 _Better for whom_ , Chris wonders darkly.  “I miss it,” he says.

“So do I,” Zach says fervently.

“Maybe we could just –”

“No.”

“You don’t even know –”

“Hell yes I do.”  He rolls over on the pillow to look at Chris, laughter in his eyes.  “Just let it go, Pine.  It’ll all come back soon enough.”

“But I don’t have anything to remember you by,” Chris says dolefully.  “During the day.”  He sees a fire flare up in Zach’s eyes, and smiles.  “Gotcha.”

“Oh, I’ll give you something to remember today,” Zach snarls. 

 _Unfortunately_ , Chris thinks later, shifting around in his hard chair during another cast and crew meeting, _that wasn't quite what I had in mind_.  His ass is still sore.  But Zach was right.  He's remembering.

"Oh, hey, Chris Pine, right?" asks a tech guy during the break.  Chris is drinking coffee and trying to eat a stale donut, but it's not happening.  He tosses it towards the trash can.

"Yeah, that's me," he says.  The guy holds out his hand.

"We kind of met at a party," he says.  "I'm a friend of Adam's.  I don't know if we really met, or just..." he trails off, his grin faltering as he sees Chris's face.

Chris forces himself to shake hands.  "Hi."

"It's Greg," the guy says.

"Yeah.  What can I do for you?"

"Nothing really," he says, shrugging.  "Just saying hi.  Adam was saying you're with Zachary Quinto, I was just wondering how you two were doing."

Chris thinks he must have learned a thing or two from Zach, because Greg takes a full step back at the sight of his face.  "Adam?" he asks.  "Oh, sure.  Yeah.  How's he doing?"

"Over in Hawaii right now," Greg says, blinking.  "Surfing."

 _Don’t start thinking there’s anything special there just because he kisses it all better when he’s finished._   Adam's voice echoes in his head, still.  He hasn't told Zach about it.  It's not something Zach needs to know.

"Right."  Chris can feel more teeth than are necessary in his smile.

"I'll - let you get back to it," Greg says, stepping away.

  
***

  
Zach calls him on the way home again, but before he can say anything, Chris asks him if he knows a Greg, who does lighting stuff.

"Um.  Maybe?"

"He's a friend of Adam's," Chris says shortly.

Silence.  And then, "Oh, yeah.  Greg.  I know him."

"He's working on the movie."

"Oh."

"He asked about us.  Mentioned Adam.  Apparently he's in Hawaii."

Chris hears Zach sigh.  "I can't just _disappear_ Adam, you know.  Much as I'd like to."

"I know."

"At least he's not all over the tabloids and TV like your exes," Zach points out.

"I  _know_."  Chris pulls viciously into his turn off lane, ignoring horns blaring.

"What are you doing?" Zach asks, alarmed.

"Driving."

"Just be careful," Zach mutters.  There's silence again and then Chris relents.

"So let me guess.  The Icy Bear wants coffee?"

"Yeah.  And -"

"One of those cookie things."  Chris smiles.  

"If it's any consolation, I think I'm growing out of the phase.  I've only had two this week."

"You don't have to give me a cover story," Chris grins.  "I'll be home soon.  With coffee and cookies."

"The Icy Bear thanks you."  He can hear Zach's smile, and it warms him all through.

"See you soon."

Chris shakes his head.  This romantic stuff is embarrassing.  He buys four cookies for Zach.


End file.
